


Hourglass

by GuardianKarenTerrier



Series: Writing Prompts [4]
Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: ADHD, ALSO not where i was going with this prompt, Found Family, Gen, Immortality, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Superheroes, Superpowers, Yes again, and Supervillains, and people who are both, because eternal life is DULL, clearly im never reaching my actual destination, i have NO FREAKING CLUE if these two are romantically involved or what, naming a character for an obscure pun because it made me giggle, so take it as you will, they are very touchy feely anyway, they did not share that information, yes thats a good idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:57:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8215642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianKarenTerrier/pseuds/GuardianKarenTerrier
Summary: For this prompt: 'Superpowers stopped appearing in people, until there were no new superheroes/villains at all. Now it’s the far-flung future, and only those rare few from “modern” times whose powers incidentally let them live hundreds of years still have superpowers.'
Where I thought I was going: Superhero support group.
Where we are: Maybe a little, but more messed up than that.





	1. Chapter 1

“Already?” He looked up as Imp came crashing down next to him. “I feel like I only just got rid of you.” The kid (he’s the youngest of them all, he’ll always be ‘the kid’ even well into all of their centuries) grins back, ever-so-slightly sharper canines catching on his bottom lip without actually breaking skin.

“Been a year and a half, dude,” Imp pointed out cheerfully. “You really ought to come back into the world sometimes, experience time actually, like, passing.” 

Turri sighs. “We’ve talked about this. The lair is self-sustaining.” He gestures down, at the sea around them- the lair started off as an oil rig, in the way back when. “Besides, I like the bloom. It’s a gorgeous one.” 

Imp leaned over the edge to study it as well, casually slinging an arm around Turri’s shoulders as he did so. Turri doesn’t shrug him off. It took years to be comfortable with the habit, but his sting won’t harm Imp. There’s nothing that can harm Imp. Turri should know- he’d tried. 

But even if no one these days remembers Imp isn’t the kid’s full call sign, Turri knows from the days when Impervious and Turrible were enemies. 

Imp is a better fit than Impervious. He’s always been more of a prankster than a superhero; it was circumstances (and Turri himself) that had forced him into the role. 

“It’s a pretty rad bloom,” Imp agrees at last, flopping backwards onto the deck and pulling Turri down with him. “I like this one. We should go swimming in it later.” Because Imp is the only one who can make that offer and he knows it. 

“Are Aimid and Seyshells coming?” Turri asks, once it’s clear that Imp’s not getting back up and so neither is he. 

“Nah, not this time.” Imp makes a face. “They’re doing one of their… publicity things. I’m slated to be there, buuut I ditched,” he admits, proudly. 

“Here I thought you liked the limelight.” 

“When I’m performing, sure. Back then, sure. Now? Eventually someone’s gonna wonder where I actually live and they’ll find out I haven’t paid rent on my apartment in… ever.” 

Turri snorts, because of course. “Oh no. What a villainous act. However will you recover,” he deadpans. “What will the world say if they knew? Would they suspect you of returning as Puck again?” 

“Hey, that was kind of a fun few decades,” Imp protested. “And you got to be the good guy!” 

“Because I was in the stage of my cycle where I looked fifteen and you were an _atrocious_ supervillain. You were awful at it.” Turri’s particular mutation means his age fluctuates. He’d learned early that no one takes a villain under the age of twenty very seriously. 

Imp pouts, then rolls over and onto Turri’s chest. He smirks and crosses his arms, looking down at his once-nemesis. If Imp had a tail it’d be lashing. “But yeah. I mean, we’re almost at the next generational cycle and they’re due to stay again, but the lovebirds aren’t coming right now.”

It was a calculated risk, the first time Turri had offered. Back then there’d been more of them. Superheroes (and villains) who hadn’t died in battle had tended to be long-lived. 

But there hadn’t been that many. And it was easy, and dangerous, to get lonely, when they started to drop off. 

These days it’s just the four of them, and every few generations (closer to every other for Imp) they all move into Turri’s lair together for company. 

“Do you ever want to do the villain thing again?” Imp asks, honestly curious. “Take over the world type thing?” 

“Not this world,” Turri says, shoving Imp gently off him and flipping to stare down at his jellyfish bloom. It’s out of season and in a wrong place, but he knows the feeling and lets it be. “I don’t want it.” 

“You’re barely a part of it, Ter.” Imp edges closer again and knocks their shoulders together. He’s always been the most physical of them all. Turri’s never going to admit how grateful he is for that. Aimid and Seyshells have each other; Imp is who Turri has. “Let’s do something different this generation. Let’s roadtrip around the world. I can teach you all the languages we’ve been learning, because you still only know like three and that’s a shame. We can go visit historical sites.” He tilts his head, eyes wide and endearing, and Turri suddenly deeply misses their masks. “We can take _selfies_.” 

Turri thinks about it. He has spent a long, long time in his ocean home, and he’s… lonely, again, even with the three visiting. Even with Imp ditching important events to come see him again. 

He was a villain, but it’s been a long time, and he doubts the world remembers him. And he’d be with his three friends, and they’re heroes (most of the time).

He starts to grin. “We can liveblog it.” 

“Let’s wear our old costumes.” Imp is climbing back on top of him, Turri realises belatedly. 

“Let’s go rescue Ann and Steve and go right now,” Turri says quietly, closing his eyes and relaxing, really relaxing, for the first time in what feels like centuries. It might be. 

“Well you owe me a swim first- holy shit they have _names_?”  

Turri snorts. “You are practically their adopted son, how do you not know their names?”

Imp flails, which is not comfortable and brings them closer to the railing. He’s going to get that swim sooner than he wants. “It’s never been relevant! Come on, do we even know each other’s names?”

“For fuck’s sake- your name is _Alex,_ you absolute shithead.”  

Imp looks startled. “Holy shit. Is it really?”

“You forgot your- in retrospect, I should have claimed it was something ridiculous.” 

“I have been Imp for _hundreds of years_ ,” the kid says defensively. “Also, when the hell did we introduce ourselves?” 

Turri rolls his eyes. “I knew your secret identity about a year in. _You weren’t subtle_.” 

“I still don’t know yours!” 

“I don’t have one!” Turri returned, exasperated. “I am literally always Turri! That is my actual name, and I was hardly hiding!” 

“You’ve been hiding _here_ since Cat ran through his last life, forgive me for _forgetting_ that you used to be cool,” Imp retorts. 

“You are referring to my villain phase as cool.”  He doesn’t want to think about Cat. Cat could have been with them still, and it’s Turri’s fault he’s not. 

Imp actually _whines_. “No, I’m referring to the you that actually _left_ this rig some times as cool. I move we leave for the roadtrip immediately.”

Now that Imp’s brought up Cat, Turri triply wants to get away from here (from himself) so he latches onto the idea again. “Help me plan it and I’ll go.” 

“It’s more fun if you wing it,” Imp protests, pushing himself up on one elbow and frowning down at Turri through his hair. 

“That single sentence explains so much about you,” Turri sighs, but all their rolling around has finally brought them to the edge of the lair, and of course Turri’s never invested in railings. 

They go over, and they chase each other around in the water in a mockery of the way they once fought, in a way Turri will never admit he misses, and they make plans for tomorrow and the days after and shout places they want to visit to each other. 

They will always have tomorrows and days after. 

But Imp seems determined that Turri will always have him, too.


	2. where the lost ones go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live, i just had a really bad few... months there but doing much better now  
> anyway I swear I really didn't intend to write this but a)here it is and b)here it is going places i had not planned to go

“When I agreed to be complicit in your idiocy, this isn’t what I meant.”

Imp grins, hands on his hips as he surveys their destination. “Come on, I know you want to.”

“Is this funny to you?” Turri demands, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. “Are you… Was this whole trip just one big joke, _Imp_?” He stresses his name in a way he hasn’t done in a hundred years, because this has reached past _annoying_ and into _painful_.

Imp fidgets. Imp always fidgets, it’s been centuries and Turri doesn’t think he’s ever seen the other man actually hold still. “I… no?” He sounds honestly hurt. “No, I just… you’ve spent all that time on the rig with the jellyfish, I thought…” He looks up, at the sign Turri’s still glaring at.

“Imp,” Turri says, very slowly and precisely, but then takes a calming breath because Imp _doesn’t_ mean it like that, he never does, and Turri’s well aware of it, but still. “This is the third aquarium in a _week_.”

“I thought you liked them,” Imp says weakly. “You.. . you like jellyfish.”

He won’t yell at him. He won’t.  Firstly, Imp honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing, and secondly, Turri knows from long experience that it won’t help. “I share some DNA with a specific jellyfish. I live near a bloom because, yes, I feel some kinship with them. That doesn’t mean I need to visit every aquarium you can find with jellyfish in it, we don’t even know how _many_ traits I share with them, anyway. And I _don’t_ want to find out,” he adds quickly, blinking rapidly and shuddering slightly.

“Oh,” Imp says quietly, eyes downcast, fidgeting worse than before. Turri sighs and reaches out to pry Imp’s hands apart, tapping the spinner ring he’d gotten for Imp a decade back and giving him a significant look.

The corners of Imp’s mouth turn up and he turns his aimless fidgeting to spinning the ring around his finger. “Sorry, I really thought you liked it.”

“I did, actually,” Turri sighs. “The first time. That doesn’t mean we need to go to _every_ aquarium, where do _you_ want to go?”

Imp glances behind them automatically, then forces his gaze back to Turri.

Turri rolls his eyes. “ _After_ the aquarium. We’re already here, I’m not gonna refuse to go in.”

He brightens immediately. “Uh, if it’s not too similar, I wanted to go to a zoo? And then maybe a theme park. Or a few theme parks! And a Ren Faire, I always wanted to go to-“

Turri holds up both hands and Imp stops immediately. “I’m fine with all of that, but let’s split them up, all right? No six theme parks in a row, no binging on fairs.”

“All right,” Imp agrees, bouncing in place and spinning his ring enthusiastically enough that Turri grabs his hand to stop him spinning the ring _off_.  Ann and Steve used to give him simpler spinners but Imp has lost every one of them, so Turri had started finding ones the other man could actually wear.  

Imp grins down at their hands, at the white and silver ring that still stands starkly out against his dark skin. It’s the first one Turri had found and he’d gotten it and shoved it on Imp’s hand himself in a fit of frustration, and since then he’s tried to get Imp to wear a more discreet one but the hero adamantly refuses to change it now. “You know, you don’t even hesitate anymore.  I think it’s been actual years since you’ve flinched away from me.”

Turri almost flinches simply at the reminder, but manages not to.  “Yeah, well. I’ve had a bit more than just years to get used to the idea that you’ll be fine.  Excuse me if I’m still wary about the fact that _no one else would be._ ”

The grin is growing and Turri eyes his companion warily.  

“Aw, Turri,” Imp says. “You were never evil at all, were you? You just needed a hug!” And then, because the world is against Turri, Imp throws himself at him and wraps all the way around him, arms and legs tangling.

Turri freezes. He always freezes. Even after hundreds of years it’s a shock to his touch-starved system every time, and hundreds of years from now it probably still will be. (Also Imp is probably at least a little bit right, but _like hell_ is he ever telling him that).

It’s always a race between how long Turri can tolerate this much contact and how long it takes before he gets too nervous about it, but by now Imp can pretty much time it on his own and he’s untangling himself just before Turri is ready to push him away.

“Race you to the sharks,” he says, and Turri rolls his eyes again but he still starts running when Imp does.

Imp runs straight to the jellyfish instead because he’s an asshole, but this is the first place that actually has a _Turritopsis dohrnii_ (just the one, but then they don’t do well in captivity, and Turri doesn’t miss how close to him Imp stays when they’re in that room) _,_ and they do spend a long time watching the sharks, and then Imp absolutely insists they have to go pet the stingrays (which is more fun than Turri wants to admit), and they don’t leave the aquarium until it’s closing.

“Your turn,” Imp says, standing in the nearly empty parking lot, because they didn’t actually bother to procure a car for this road trip just yet. For one thing, when you live for centuries taking the time to walk doesn’t seem unreasonable.

For another, when you live for centuries and one of you fluctuates in age, your IDs tend to be a bit suspect.

“I get a turn now?” Turri asks, amused.

Imp hums and spins his ring. “You always had a turn. Not my fault you didn’t take it.”

Turri thinks about it for a moment, visualizing where they are in his head. Imp and the others might have learned a few dozen languages between them by now, but Turri’s the one who’s always had a head for maps, and he’s memorized more than they know. He knows where they are.

“Follow me,” he says abruptly, and darts away. He’s actually much slower than Imp, but Imp still chases after him with a bright laugh.

They don’t take a straight path- Turri leads him through a forest first, then alongside a mostly empty highway as the sun sets, and finally they skid over and down a hill to their destination.

Imp tumbles after him and springs immediately up to his feet, looking all around with a grin. He’s got his hands on his hips like he’s still a superhero, like he’s still wearing his cape, and Turri almost, almost takes a step away but forces himself to stay still and breathe. They aren’t enemies. They haven’t been enemies for years, for most of Turri’s long life.

There’s still a stubborn part of him that refuses to believe that.

“Are we…” Imp looks around, and a smile breaks over his face like dawn. “This is a zoo!”

“ _Was_ a zoo,” Turri corrects, more out of breath than Imp is and slightly bitter about it. “It’s been abandoned for a long time. I thought we could explore.”

“Aww, you remembered I like slasher films,” Imp says cheerfully, slinging an arm around Turri’s shoulders. Turri lets him. “Gotta tell you though, they lose some of the tension for me.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Turri says dryly. He’s seen Imp fall from a forty story building before. Imp’s seen him run through with a sword before. Turri’s _run_ Imp through with a sword before. He’s more fragile than Imp, but everyone is, honestly. Horror films are mostly for mocking.

When they aren’t they’re for dredging up old traumas, but between them they’ve gotten good at avoiding those ones.

They end up spending most of the night in the zoo, chasing each other between old habitats and adding childishly to the graffiti in the old dilapidated buildings. Turri isn’t bioluminescent himself but he secretly loves anything glow in the dark, and Imp gleefully hands him glow in the dark spray paint that he digs out from his rucksack and after that it’s not hard to talk Turri into graffiti.

“You planned for this,” Turri says, later, accusingly. “How?”

“Dude, you love liminal spaces,” Imp says smugly. “We were going somewhere we could use the spray paint sooner or later.” 

Even later, they find a hole in a fence and slip through and find an absolutely ancient habitat, and Turri jumps down to investigate further but as his foot nudges at the decrepit remnants of a chain he hears a noise and looks up at Imp looking down at him through the broken bars and oh. Oh.

Turri climbs right back out and they don’t talk about it. He doesn’t go inside any more habitats, even if Imp does.

It’s very, very late when they hike back to their motel. Turri digs awkwardly for the room key as Imp fidgets with his ring again and they fight to be the first through the door until Imp squeezes through and actually dives directly from the doorway onto the bed.

They used to get separate beds, but Imp never stays in his, and Turri can never quite make himself make Imp leave, so they’ve stopped bothering.

Turri goes to change while Imp makes himself comfortable- Imp doesn’t bother with pajamas, never has. He’s slept fully clothed as long as Turri’s actually been around to know how he sleeps.

When Turri does drop onto the bed, sighing as he stretches, Imp immediately rolls so that he’s a line of warmth along his side. He presses close, closer than usual, even for Imp. Sleeping is the one time this closeness doesn’t always bother Turri and Imp takes shameless advantage.

“Sorry,” Turri says softly, into his pillow.

“Don’t be,” Imp says immediately, hooking an arm around Turri’s waist and ducking his head. Turri isn’t very big, Imp can wrap all the way around him when he tries, and this might be a night he tries. “It was never your fault.”

“It was, though,” Turri mutters.

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Imp repeats firmly.

Imp has always been a hero. His mutation’s been studied, in depth, it’s something he volunteered for; he’s sturdy, he said he figured he could handle a little bit of experimentation, and they poked and prodded him a bit and let him go. He was a hero, and he’s the adopted son of two _more_ heroes, and they let him go, quickly, as soon as they had the basic information to study.

Turri isn’t a hero, and didn’t have a family, and didn’t volunteer, and they didn’t let him go. He’d only been captured once, after he’d lost another fight to Impervious, and _Turritopsis dohrnii_ don’t do well in captivity- _he_ doesn’t do well in captivity.

To this day he doesn’t actually know how long they’d had him. He’s never asked and no one’s ever offered.

He can still cast his mind back and picture, vividly, the way he’d crammed himself into the farthest corner of his cell, made himself small, far as he could get from the water he couldn’t convince them he didn’t need except to drink. The way he’d flung his head up, wary and wild, at a misplaced sound and seen Impervious, grimmer than he’d ever seen him, ripping a keypad out of the wall altogether and then hauling the door open, and then hauling Turri out. The then-audible noises from the rest of the building had let him know Imp wasn’t alone, but he knew now that Imp was the one who’d insisted on coming after him.

Turri hadn’t actually realized at the time that he was being rescued, but he’d clung to Imp anyway, soaked and shivering and miserable, because at least he knew Imp and he knew what Imp _wouldn’t_ do.

He remembers Imp muttering furiously, “You don’t need water, what the fuck,” and searching for a towel without ever letting go of him.

He doesn’t remember the actual fight, though he knows he wasn’t really involved in it, and he learned later that Cat managed to die twice that time.

He only sort of remembers Aimid healing him, running gentle hands over him even though it hurt her, it _had_ to hurt her, and flinching further into Imp’s grasp because Imp didn’t let go of him for a long time.

He remembers Imp finding him clothes.

Mostly, he remembers that when he ran, they let him.

That wasn’t when they became friends, but it was when they stopped being enemies.

“You were _scared_ , Ter,” Imp says, dragging him forcibly back to the here and now. “That’s understandable. Fuck, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. If I’d known, I never would have left you after that fight.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have known,” Imp says furiously, and yeah, this is going to be a very tactile night. Sleeping period, anyway. Imp is already wrapping around him protectively, subconsciously. “I should have looked, I should have known, I knew your schedule, I should have noticed sooner.”

“You can’t…” Turri takes a deep breath, feels Imp’s arms and legs rising and falling with him. “I was hardly your responsibility.”

“Yeah, well.” Imp buries his head in Turri’s neck. “You should have been someone’s. You were- you were a _kid_ , Ter, when I found you you were like, twelve, I don’t even know if you knew it- they’d already done something, at least once, maybe more, they made you revert, they- They hurt you.” It’s Imp’s turn to take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Turri repeats, and for once he’s the one that presses closer.

“Sorry about the aquariums,” Imp mumbles. “I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking.”

“The stingrays were pretty cool. Imp, it’s been a really long time. If I wanted to leave, I could have- you were with me the whole time.” He’d been comfortable enough, felt safe enough, that even the moment in the abandoned zoo hadn’t occurred to him until he’d seen Imp’s stricken face.

“I’m still sorry,” Imp says stubbornly. “You- I know I don’t think things through, you can tell me when I’m being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb,” Turri says. “Impulsive and dumb aren’t synonyms.”

“Might as well be,” Imp says, but he’s finally starting to sound sleepy.

“Yeah,” Turri says dryly. “Why don’t we ask Aimid and Seyshells if they think you’re dumb.”

Imp snorts. “They pretty well raised me, that doesn’t count.”

“They didn’t raise you to be dumb,” Turri points out. “Imp, if you weren’t _you_ , I’d never have left that lab. I’d have-“

Imp’s hand covers his mouth, but gently. “Don’t… say it, Ter. Don’t.”

Turri waits patiently for Imp to withdraw, then says on an exhale, “I’d have died there.”

Imp constricts around him, almost painfully, exactly as Turri expected him to.

“You know it’s true,” Turri says softly, shifting slightly- this is a little more contact than he’s comfortable with. Imp immediately loosens his grip. “If you hadn’t followed your impulse, no one would have come.”

Imp’s quiet for a long time, but eventually ducks his head further and mutters, “I’m still sorry. About the aquariums.”

“I’m a grown man, Imp, I’m perfectly capable of walking away if I’m uncomfortable,” Turri says dryly.

“…Not if you have a flashback,” Imp says after a long hesitation.

Turri shrugs. “You were there. You would have helped.” He sighs and reaches over to hit their radio, ready to play whatever music Imp’s left in it (neither of them sleep well in silence).

He groans when he hears ‘you could be immortals, but not for long,’ but settles for lightly punching Imp and finally going to sleep.

“G’night, Ter,” Imp mumbles, and though Turri doesn’t say it back- he never does- he lets Imp curl closer than he would normally allow.

And if Turri himself finds sleep faster than usual, well, Imp doesn’t need to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite being the one writing these two i honestly cannot tell if they're in a relationship or not, and due to turri's age not being static I'm unlikely to ever figure that out, so however you read their relationship is correct


	3. through the wilderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not intend to write about this happening, but here we are, and it got long and will have a second part; we're way back in time for this bit, back to the rescue turri was talking about in the last chapter.  
> also, none of these characters want to listen to me, and several of them weren't supposed to exist.

“I dunno, it’s just, I feel like it’s been a while?” Imp says awkwardly, kicking his heels against the wall.

Beside him, lounging with just as little concern for the sheer drop below them, Cat laughs. “Dude, it’s been like, a couple weeks. He’s gone off the grid for way longer after some of your fights.”

Imp hunches in on himself and scowls. “I know that, I just.. I have a bad feeling, or something, all right?”

“A bad feeling,” Cat mocks, and not for the first time Imp recalls that actually, Cat is kind of an asshole and he’s not entirely sure why they hang out. “You listenin’ to bad feelings now?”

Imp’s scowl deepens, even as he gets up and stretches. “Yeah you know what, I don’t have to take this, I’m going home.”

Cat rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother moving. “No you’re not, you never go home. Do you even see your parents anymore? Or have you just, like, moved the fuck in with Seyshells now?”

Flinching, Imp grits his teeth and just barely bites back the retort he wants to make. Cat’s parents are dead, like most of the team’s parents are either dead or absent; Imp is an anomaly in that his family is alive, well, and would be supportive if he ever asked them.

….even if ‘parents’ is… misleading, at best. He doesn’t owe that explanation to anyone, and especially not Cat, thanks.

Even if Imp hasn’t actually gone home to them in something approaching two years, and he can’t exactly share why. Cat’s going to find out in a matter of years anyway; Imp would prefer not to be the one to tell him.  

His family isn’t bad or anything. They didn’t kick him out. They love him, he’s pretty sure, and he loves them back. They just… aren’t Seyshells and Aimid.

He really, really hates to say that it’s because his blood family doesn’t understand him, because it sounds so shallow, but they don’t. They can’t. They’re normal. Imp’s not.

So he goes home to Seyshell’s spare room or Aimid’s couch instead, and calls his relatives on occasion to check in. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, not when all parties have agreed it’s best, but there’s no way to tell his parentless teammates that he prefers to stay with his guardians when he _has_ relatives.

In the end, he just shrugs in response to Cat, then leaps off the seawall and picks a direction.

He doesn’t think he’s got a destination in mind aside from ‘away from Cat,’ so after a bit of wandering he’s somewhat surprised to find his feet have taken him to a familiar garage.

He hesitates for a moment, but only a moment, and then he’s ducking around to tap out a pattern on the side door.

It creaks open and a redhead of indeterminate gender peers out suspiciously, keeping the door deliberately in the way until they spot Imp. Then they relax, shove their goggles onto their forehead, and wave him in, beaming.

It’s dark, in the back of the shop. The only illumination is from the massive computer screens on the back wall casting an eerie glow over the small space.

This part of the shop can only be entered by the side door, and its strange narrow proportions and angles prevent its existence from being too obvious.

Imp’s known about it for years.

The figure in the chair at the computer swivels around as they enter. “Scam, who’s- oh, hey Imp. What’s up?”

“Hey, Cassandra.” The room- well, lair, if any of them want to be honest about it- doesn’t have a lot of options for seating, so Imp opts to drop himself down on a crate.

Cass draws a hand down his face with a sigh. “That is… still not my name. I know you know my name, Impulsive . At this point, you probably know my real name as well.”

Imp shrugs. “And if I make a point of using Cassandra instead then if I ever slip up and mention you, it’s harder to put it together." This is not strictly true. At some point, Imp had just stopped caring how his team felt about his being friends with Cass. They don't actually know Cass; they don't get to judge him.

“Fair,” Cass concedes. “So, what is it you need?” 

“Uh.” Imp shifts, tapping his foot erratically. “Um, well, Turri’s missing. Haven’t seen him since our last fight.”

“…Turri.”

Imp’s foot taps faster. “Um. Yeah. He’s… missing, I said that already, sorry. But he’s. It’s. Something feels wrong, I’m… worried.”

“Turri,” Cass repeats, a note of incredulity creeping into his voice. “You’re here because Turrible is missing.  Not Cat, or Scout, or Dissonance.”

“I. Uh. Yes. I have, I have a bad feeling?” Imp offers. He forces himself to stop tapping his foot, but starts up again before long.

“You remember Turri is your enemy, right, _Impervious_?” Cass asks in clear exasperation.

“Yeah,” Imp says quietly. “But we’ve talked about this before. You know why I’m worried.”

Cass exhales. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.  I’ll see what I can get.” He swivels to face his computer, taps a couple keys, and then starts talking to it in a language incomprehensible to Imp. He’d assumed it was some kind of binary originally, but further investigation had revealed it was something else altogether.

It didn’t matter, anyway, so long as it worked for the technomancer.

Cass is an incredible technomancer, the best Imp’s ever seen. The ‘Cassandra’ nickname came about after one memorable weekend when he and Cass and Andrios had decided to experiment with a combination of pattern recognition, several complicated technical programs Imp had not begun to understand, and social media, and Cass had been able to accurately predict how a number of strangers would react to various situations. He’d also predicted which of those situations were likely to occur. It had been early enough that Imp hadn't even known Andrios' name yet. There had been graphs.

It’s probably a little bit weird that they’d had such fun with that.

This takes about half an hour. For someone with Cass’ skills, that’s close to an eternity. By the time he turns back, Imp has taken to tossing an empty soda can up and down and from hand to hand, just to keep himself occupied. As Cass spins, though, Imp drops it.

“Well?” he demands, leaning forward.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Cass warned.  He raises his voice and says, “Andrios, get the Heap ready, we’re going to need it!”

“You’re coming? We're going _now_? And we need the _Heap_?” Imp repeats, even more worried than before.

“And your team,” Cass says flatly. “As much of your team as you can get. I found your Turri, and you need to get him, and you need to get him _yesterday_.” 

“Where is he?” Imp whispers. It’s unheard of for Cass to risk the team getting anywhere near the Heap. If any of them are determined enough, they can trace it back to the technomancer and his crew’s hideout, and while Cass, Scam and Andrios aren’t exactly bad guys, they are _definitely_ further to the darker side of things than to the light. Imp is old enough not to care, but he can’t vouch for the others.

“He’s in the Labyrinth,” Cass says. “I unlocked your comm, you can use it from here now, I can always move, _call your team while we get to the Heap._ ”

“What the hell is the Labyrinth?” is all Imp manages to say, even as he unclips his comm from his belt and starts hitting the ‘come help, need you here, now’ buttons for everyone. If he uses the voice option, well, his team objects to Cass’ team. They can argue about this _after_ they’re on the move. 

“You don’t-” Cass starts, then groans even as he springs up from his chair and waves Scam ahead of them. Imp follows. “Right. Hero. And you probably predate the damn place, anyway. It used to be the Asterian Institute, but no one was getting the reference, so they decided to quit being pretentious pricks- well, to stop being pretentious- and changed it to the Labyrinth.”

Andrios is outside waiting for them, the Heap already running, and he gestures them all in. The Heap is, technically, an old Chevrolet Caprice station wagon. Also, it should technically have stopped running, oh, several years ago at the very least.

But Cass asks it to run, and it does. Seeing as it seats nine, and more than that if you’re stupid or desperate or both, and is loaded with Scam, Andrios and Cass’ surprises, it may look like hell but Imp trusts it more than any other car he’s ever been in.

Imp doesn’t really do cars, actually, but the Heap is more than a car, and he actually is both desperate and stupid right now, so he climbs in without hesitation.

“Take flamethrower,” Andrios suggests when Imp hesitates over seating. “You’ll see your team coming that way.”

‘Flamethrower’ is the rear-facing back seats, specifically the left-most one. Imp is not sure if the names or attached weapons came first but it makes calling shotgun a very strange experience for anyone unfamiliar with the Heap.

Cass slides into the driver’s seat and starts talking quietly to the Heap and gets it running, and Andrios plugs his arm into the door and into the speaker system.

“Scam and Cass got me out of the Labyrinth,” is the first thing he says. “On the fourth or fifth try, anyway. They caught Scam for a while, too. It’s bad, Imp. Turri won’t be in good shape, you need to be prepared for that.”

Imp thinks about how he’s never actually heard Scam speak, how he’s not actually sure how much of Andrios is technology- and that Andrios still trusts and stays with Cass, whose actual power is _controlling technology_ \- and grinds his teeth. “How fast can you get us there?”

“Twenty minutes or less,” Cass says. “They try to move around and they have cloaking, but we’ve kept tabs on them. I don’t like not knowing where they are. Your team?”

Imp glances at his comm. “Cat and Ash are coming. No response from Dissonance or Scout.” He drops the communicator back to his belt and raises his watch instead. “If it’s that bad, I’m calling in Seyshells and Aimid.”

“Yes,” Andrios says immediately, even though Imp knows Andrios doesn’t like Aimid. He’s never asked why. “Definitely, definitely call them.” 

The voice option is fine for his guardians. They trust Imp to, mostly, know what he’s doing.

“Hey,” he says when Seyshells grumpily answers. “I need you to- Cass, can you activate the tracker in my watch?”

“Cass- You’re with _Asimov?_ ” Seyshells says, more alert. Then, “Wait, you _know_ about the tracker?”

“Cass, yes, we’re in the Heap, need you and Aimid, literally everyone knows about the trackers, Sey. If _I_ know about it the others _definitely_ know, though I assume theirs are in different places.”

“Huh. Okay. I’ll get Aimid, we’ll meet you as soon as possible. How much of the team is coming?”

“So far? Cat and Ash that I know of. No one else has replied.” 

“We’re getting close,” Cass calls back. “Radio silence might be a good idea.”

“Shit, I gotta go, get whoever you can, see you in a few!” Imp says in a rush, then deactivates the watch.

Eventually the Heap shudders to a stop in front of an innocuous looking building. It looks, in point of fact, like a normal apartment complex.

…a sparsely populated one in a bad part of town, yes, but still. Apartment complex.

“You know, I thought it would look more ominous,” Imp says as they get out of the car. Andrios unplugs his arm.

Imp is _not_ asking. Being here is making him feel like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin as it is.

It’s less than a minute before Seyshells and Aimid pull up in Seyshell’s truck, and only a couple minutes after that before Ash’s motorcycle pulls up with Cat riding behind him.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then Cat is demanding to know what’s going on, Andrios has moved in front of Scam to glare at Aimid, Cat is also asking why Imp is even _with_ Cass, and Seyshells and Imp are staring at each other in something like despair.

Several weeds abruptly grow several feet out of the parking lot cracks and make a very obvious threat to gag everyone arguing.

“Who’s in trouble, and where are we going?” Ash says simply as wary gazes turn to him.

“Turri,” Imp says, past a growing lump in his throat. This place clearly terrifies Cass’ team, who Imp has never seen this frightened, and Turri has been missing for _weeks._

“We’re rescuing your damn arch nemesis?” Cat demands, though he’s already equipping his tail and claws, and he's already got his helmet on. Cat’s ‘fight mode’ is not exactly subtle- and the suit makes it less obvious what his powers really are.

“We’re rescuing a _person_ ,” Aimid snaps, still staring at Andrios and Scam. She sounds stern, but she looks apologetic. “Everything after that is semantics. Now come on, let’s go get him. Asimov, have you a plan?”

Cass nods. (Imp may know his name, but he also knows Cass better than his team does, so he isn’t about to actually call his friend Asimov). “Scam and I will disable the security from out here, Andrios will go with you to handle any tech you need help with inside. One or more of you will need to provide a distraction.”

“Is it wise for Andrios to come with us?” Aimid asks lowly.

“None of this is wise,” Cass says flatly. “But even if half Imp’s team can’t be bothered to show up, _my_ team isn’t leaving anyone in the Labyrinth.”

Seyshells blanches. “This is the Labyrinth?”

Scam nods as Andrios says, “We keep track of it.”

Now also staring at Cass’ team, Seyshells says, “Cat. Window, northwest building, go distract. Imp you go with Andrios, you two can focus on getting Turrible out. The rest of you, come with me while Scam and Cass do their thing.”

Cat’s darting away before Seyshells finishes speaking. He smashes through the window almost without giving Cass time to disable the main alarms, and Imp can see his teammate roll to his feet and immediately engage with the guards who come running.

Cass has his hand on the building they’re next to, eyes closed, concentrating. Scam grabs his shoulder and does… something, and Cass gasps out, “He’s in the underground tunnels. Door’s open, the buildings should all connect, I think he’s a little south of us but there’s interference.”

Even as Andrios and Imp rip open the door and rush in, Cat’s distraction is noticeably louder, and as the door swings shut Imp sees Ash directing a sad-looking tree at one of the other building’s second story windows. Presumably Aimid and Seyshells have split up to cause more distractions.

“Okay,” Imp says once they’re in, scanning the area. “This,uh. This really looks like an apartment building?”

Andrios looks at him, then places a hand on one of the apartment doors. It swings open to reveal a room with a stainless steel table and surgical instruments.

“Got it,” Imp says shakily. “Basement?”

“This isn’t the same place they kept us,” Andrios says, heading further down the hallway. Imp falls into step beside him. “I’m not wholly sure where the basement is, but if we keep heading down….”

The end of the hallway does, in fact, end in stairs.

In fact, they push open a door marked ‘Laundry’ to reveal an ominous looking set of metal stairs spiraling down into darkness. Weirdly, incongruously, there are still actually washers and dryers in the room.

“You know,” Imp says, staring downwards. “I have admittedly been sleeping at other people’s places for like a decade now, but I am pretty sure the laundry room is not usually this creepy and inexplicably terrifying.”

“Well,” Andrios says, starting down the stairs as something in his left arm whirs to life and begins to glow. “Some are surprisingly close to it.”

"And just like that, I have zero desire to ever learn where the three of you actually live." There's a decent chance they'd tell Imp if he sincerely asked, but he doesn't need to know.

They aren’t attacked on the stairs, so the distractions must be doing their job. When they come to a place where he can pull it off, Imp manages to jump down further to get in front of Andrios, who gives him a strange look.

“I don’t intend them to get their hands on anyone else while we get Turri, and Cass definitely sounded like he thinks they’d still be interested in you,” Imp explains.

“Oh,” Andrios says. He looks startled. “Thank you.”

The staircase ends abruptly in a corridor that slants downwards noticeably. Imp glances up and sees there are fluorescent lights down here, at least, although they’re off- the hallway is lit only with faint red emergency lighting.

It also splits off into three corridors immediately, one of which makes an immediate sharp turn and another of which Imp can already see branching again.

“Oh,” he says.

“They meant the name, yes.” Andrios starts moving forwards, glancing up at the lights. “Of course, they have never been as clever as they think. They have to be able to keep their own personnel from getting lost- follow the corridors that have three lights together, then one, then three again alternating.”

Imp hadn’t even noticed there were patterns to the lights, but when he compares the corridors again it seems obvious. Some were evenly spaced, some in groups of two; only the leftmost corridor Andrios started down had the three-one-three pattern.

“Are you sure they won’t have changed the pattern?” Imp asks, catching up and maneuvering himself in front of his friend again.

He catches Andrios’ shoulders lifting and falling in what’s probably a shrug. “If they didn’t bother to any of the times we were trying to escape, I doubt they have now.” His voice goes drier than usual. “They tend not to think too highly of, ah, specimens.”

Imp doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

The floors slope up and down sporadically and for varying distances, so that Imp shortly isn’t at all sure how far underground they could be. Twice a hallway ends in a foot high jump for no reason Imp can see, and twice they have to take another staircase, although they’re thankfully only brief stairs this time.

Finally the hallway makes a short turn to the left and ends in a steel door. Imp glances at Andrios to see his eyes have narrowed and he’s holding his left arm in a strange position.

His left arm also seems to be making a whirring noise.

In sync, they both back up as far as the hall will let them, then charge the door kick it open to reveal a wide, white-walled room, bright with fluorescent lighting that’s painful after the darkness in the halls. 

Imp moves immediately to shield Andrios, and a bullet pings off him from one of the three maybe-scientists in the room before Andrios slides his charged arm around Imp and fires off three precise shots.

It’s possible the scientists are dead. Imp should care about that, maybe, but he’s busy.

The far wall is made of glass, or at least a substance that looks like glass, although it’s likely much stronger. In Imp’s experience, it always is.

On the other side of the wall, they can make out a room which is half-full of what looks like a small swimming pool, and a figure huddled in on itself in the far corner.

Imp has to force himself to keep guarding Andrios in case guards come. He wants, badly, to run to the other side of the room, but he forces himself to stay in step with Andrios as they both scan for further threats.

But once they reach the glass wall, Imp reaches out to the blinking control panel next to the door and rips it out of the wall entirely. The door shudders open and an alarm starts to sound, but only manages one feeble, barely audible wail due to whatever Cass has done.

“I was not aware you had super strength,” Andrios says, turning around to guard the door for Imp.

“I don’t,” Imp grits out. “I’m just _incredibly_ _pissed off_.”

He ducks in and steps carefully around the pool, muttering to himself. “What the fuck, you don’t need water… salt water. This is salt water, you’re not _actually_ … these people aren’t even fucking _good_ at science, are they?”

“They are not,” Andrios says from the door.

Imp kneels awkwardly next to Turri. “Hey. Hey, Turri? Hey, we’re here to get you out of here, alright? I know… I know we fought when I saw you last, but I, I really, _really_ need you to trust me.”

He is not prepared for when Turri finally lifts his head.

The tears aren’t a surprise. The fact that Turri looks like he’s _ten_ is a surprise.

Imp’s actually seen this ability before, but he’d seen Turri revert by a few months after a fight went badly. He has no idea what would be bad enough to cause _years_ of reversion.

“Turri?” Imp whispers. “Ter, it’s Impervious. We’re getting out of here, okay? Do you, do you understand?”

Turri tries to stand and nearly falls over, and when Imp catches him he feels how hard the other man- the _boy_ \- is shaking, so he picks him up carefully and heads for the door.

Andrios hands him a towel without expression and Imp gratefully wraps it around Turri, who only clings tighter and still doesn’t say a word.

As they’re navigating the passageways, considerably slower than they came down them, Andrios offers quietly, “Do you want me to carry him? I’m… taller than you.”

Actually Andrios is a lot stronger than Imp, but he appreciates the tact all the same. “No, you can’t touch him.”

“I have been helping you,” Andrios says stiffly. 

Imp shifts Turri closer when he whimpers and ducks his head. “No, sorry, I phrased that badly but I meant you literally can’t touch him. He stings. I’m told it’s very painful.”

“Oh,” is Andrios’ only reply, before falling into a pensive silence that lasts all through the twisting hallways. The alarms are even fainter than before, and there’s still no sign of guards in this area, so hopefully the others are doing well.

If they hallways seemed long before, they are interminable now. Turri is clutching Imp’s shirt tightly and burying his face in it, and he hasn’t stopped shaking. Imp hitches him higher and can’t quite get over how small he is- Turri has never been very big, but there’s quite a difference between late-teens Turri and ten-year-old Turri.

Imp realizes he’s shaking, too. Turri’s not his friend, they’re enemies, they fight all the time, and Turri is ten years old and clinging to him and taking hitching little breaths, and the world has gone horribly wrong somehow.

They reach the laundry room, so they stop long enough to get clothes for Turri out of the dryers, and decide not to question there being clothes in the dryers in the first place.

And when Turri doesn’t want to let go of Imp long enough to get dressed, Andrios crouches down and gently guides the boy away with a hand on his arm so Imp can drop an oversized T-shirt over Turri. Andrios doesn’t so much as flinch.

Andrios avoids Imp’s gaze as he returns Turri, stepping back before saying quietly, “I know you have always suspected…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Andrios inspects Imp for a minute before gesturing him ahead to the door. “I find I want to. As I said, I know you have always suspected, and you have never brought it up. You have never given up our location to your team, and you clearly understand why Cass uses the name Asimov, though I’ve never been sure if you picked that up consciously or not.”

Somehow the only thing Imp manages is, “Wait, do you two also call him Cass?”

The other man laughs. “He likes it. He’s always thought it’s funny. He just also enjoys teasing you. And you’ve known I am an android from the very start, haven’t you.”

“I mean,” Imp says, shifting his hold on Turri again. “Cyborg was a possibility at the beginning.”

“You have never treated me any differently, and you treat my friends with respect.”

“That’s actually because of you?” Imp said awkwardly. “I mean. The android thing, and Cass’ abilities… The amount of trust you must have in him, it made me trust him, too.”

Andrios laughs again. “Most people have assumed that Cass makes _sure_ I trust him.”

“That’s…” Imp stops walking, but starts again immediately when Turri shudders. “That’s why you don’t like Aimid, isn’t it?”

He can hear the scowl. “She… did not believe that Scam and I were staying with Cass of our own free will. She attempted to heal a problem that did not exist, multiple times, and would not accept our reasons. I fully understand that she is family to you, but it is not acceptable to heal someone who is actively and _loudly_ refusing it, and it was not appreciated.”

“She’s more like a mentor,” Imp falters.

They’re nearly out of the building, and Andrios takes the time to turn around and roll his eyes at Imp. “Please. She’s practically your mother. Do the others know why you do not stay with your blood family?”

“I am more comfortable with my powers around Aimid and Seyshells,” Imp says defensively.

“Imp,” Andrios says. “How old are you?”

Imp hesitates. “We need to leave and get Turri help.”

“Imp, I am aware your listed mother is actually your grand-niece,” Andrios says. “And I won’t tell anyone. You have always kept our secrets, after all.”

Luckily for Imp, they’re at the door now and he has an excuse not to answer. When they exit into the parking lot, even the dim street lights make Turri curl closer to Imp.

Imp thinks again about how he’s never heard Scam say a word and how he’s genuinely not certain whether they won’t or _can’t_ speak.

Then he sees their allies, and has an excuse to _stop_ thinking about that.

Seyshells is no more damaged than ever, but he’s got Cat slung over his shoulder, and Cat is definitely not breathing. Imp would freak out, if he hadn’t seen Cat use this power before; it might take longer depending on the damage but Cat will be fine.

Ash is also undamaged, surveying several buildings now overrun with plant life with a serene look on his face. Imp is not sure what that’s about. He _is_ sure that he is never, ever asking. Ash may be one of his more reliable teammates but the man is also unnerving as hell sometimes.

Scam and Cass are already activating the Heap, and Aimid…

Aimid is headed towards them at a dead run.

Imp can work out why, but he instinctively shifts in front of Andrios anyway.

Aimid does not hesitate to touch Turri. She winces initially at his sting, but grits her teeth and keeps healing him.

“ _Ann,_ ” Seyshells says, alarmed.

“I can heal myself,” Aimid snaps. “He can’t.”

Aimid's healing doesn't usually take very long. This time, it takes longer than usual, but it's still probably less than ten minutes.

Imp can't be sure, because it feels like an eternity.

Eventually, she steps back, looking weary. “I’ve healed everything that can be healed. I don’t know how his age regression powers work, so I’m leaving anything related to them alone.”

“Wise,” says Andrios, and nothing else. Aimid nods without looking at him and he continues. "We all need to get away from here. Who's taking Turri?"

" _Me_ ," Imp snarls instinctively, curling tighter around Turri, loosening his grip immediately when that earns him a whimper. Forcing himself calmer, Imp adds, "I'm the only one who can touch him." Well, and Andrios, but Imp isn't about to reveal that information- it's private, as far as he's concerned.

"Okay," Seyshells says. " _Where_ are you taking him?"

Oh. Right. Imp's technically homeless, he supposes; it's never been an issue between Aimid and Seyshells and the fact that he _could_ go to his family's house if he wanted.  But Turri won't be comfortable around Imp's guardians, and he has no idea where Turri actually lives. He's always been a little bit afraid that the kid actually _is_ homeless.

Shit, his _enemies_ just rescued him. It really doesn't seem like Turri has anyone.

"They can come with us," Cass says, surprising Imp. Scam is nodding even before Imp has fully processed the offer, and Andrios looks grimly pleased. "It would be good for Turri to be around someone who's familiar with the Labyrinth."

"Are you sure?" Imp asks anxiously. Where the trio actually lives has been a closely guarded secret as long as Imp has known them.

 "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered," Cass says. "If everyone agrees?"

It's Aimid who nods first. "They have a good point, Imp. You should go with them."

"Okay," Imp says. "I'll be off coms for a while, then. Cass will make sure I can contact you if I need to." He has complete confidence in that, after tonight.  Imp's been worried a long time and the rest of his team has thought he was overreacting. Cass had leapt into action to help him immediately, even though he had no obligation to do so.

Imp might feel a little disloyal to his team if he weren't so frustrated with most of them.

He climbs back into the Heap. He doesn't want to put Turri down, but he's also a little bit terrified of not using seatbelts, so he buckles Turri in next to him and wraps an arm around his shaking form.

Cass and Andrios slide into the front seat, Scam into the middle, and they wait for the other heroes to leave before starting the Heap. Imp still doesn't know what the distractions were exactly, but it's clear they were thorough- no one has come out after them in all this time.

Imp almost wishes they would. He'd really like to hit someone.

The ride to the trio's home is mostly quiet.  Turri still shakes and doesn't say a word, burrowing against Imp's side, and shortly after Andrios shoves his arm into the door again Pachelbel's Canon starts playing softly.  Imp wouldn't have thought of that but Turri does start to relax slightly against him.

When they arrive at their destination, Imp braces himself. From little things the others have let slip, he expects another run down apartment building, and he's not sure how Turri will take that.

It's not a rundown apartment building.

It's a rundown mansion, and Imp hefts Turri back into his arms to follow his friends inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in legend, cassandra had a twin brother, helenus, who she taught the power of prophecy to. he was also known by the name scamandrios. 
> 
> i have no idea why imps team are assholes. that just kind of happened. and cass' team is a complete surprise to me, they just sort of dove in here and grew complicated personalities and backstories.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say 'I'm not writing that roadtrip' but
> 
> yes probably


End file.
